


i can test out my luck (you can play on my team)

by hyungs



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, vague college AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyungs/pseuds/hyungs
Summary: He rolls them over in one fluid motion so that he’s stretching over Mingyu, knees bracketing Mingyu’s hips, and takes proper stock of him in the daytime: skin glowing in the morning sun, lips somehow still so fucking chapped, his eyes already glazing over a little when Jihoon takes both of his wrists and pins them above his head.Or,Jihoon plans on taking in some views, but they won't be of Hong Kong.





	i can test out my luck (you can play on my team)

**Author's Note:**

> title from cazwell's "ice cream truck."

The sun has barely risen and the air is already sticky and humid, the hottest so far in Hong Kong this summer. The aunties are already in the courtyard outside Mingyu’s shitty studio apartment, loudly complaining about how the laundry will never dry in this humidity; the person in the unit next door is clattering around, no doubt getting ready to join the swell of people cramming into subway trains on their ways to work.

Jihoon is lying next to Mingyu on his beat up mattress in his rattiest tank top and boxers, trying his damndest not to die.

“Why do you not own a fan,” Jihoon bitches while wiggling away from Mingyu’s clingy arms. No one sane should be okay with that much sweaty skin touching; no one sane should agree to rent in the crush of Hong Kong heat without air conditioning.

But then again, no one sane would visit their boyfriend studying abroad for a week-long vacation when said boyfriend would be back in Korea in two months anyway. Yet here Jihoon is, dodging Mingyu’s demands for affection and struggling to remember what subway stop he’s supposed to get off at to see whatever sights he’s supposed to be seeing while Mingyu is in class.

“Minghao said he needed it,” Mingyu says reasonably, still reaching for Jihoon like some sort of tenacious yet affable squid. “The air conditioning in his building broke down.” 

“You don’t even _have_ air conditioning in your building,” Jihoon says accusingly. “You could have warned me that I might die of heat stroke? That I should have drawn up my will before boarding my flight?”

“It’s hot in Busan too,” Mingyu half-heartedly argues. He manages to get an arm around Jihoon’s waist and pulls Jihoon snugly against his front. Jihoon squawks and slaps at Mingyu’s hands.

“Busan gets hot in the summer, not _hellish_.”

“Stop acting like you didn’t miss me,” Mingyu says teasingly against the nape of Jihoon's neck. His breath is hot and wet against Jihoon’s skin, but the sensation makes Jihoon shiver.

It reminds him of last night, when Jihoon had just landed and gotten his jetlag out by fucking Mingyu into the mattress until Mingyu could only breathe Jihoon’s name in the air between them.

He rolls them over in one fluid motion so that he’s stretching over Mingyu, knees bracketing Mingyu’s hips, and takes proper stock of him in the daytime: skin glowing in the morning sun, lips somehow still so fucking chapped, his eyes already glazing over a little when Jihoon takes both of his wrists and pins them above his head.

It’s not like Jihoon had forgotten what Mingyu looked like — the time difference between Hong Kong and Seoul is minimal, and they had Facetimed nearly daily — but actually having Mingyu, soft and pliant and warm under him, takes all the air out of Jihoon’s lungs.

Jihoon is not really interested in sightseeing.

“Here’s a suggestion,” Jihoon says conversationally, like he’s not mentally cataloguing everything he’d like to do to Mingyu over the next seven days. “Skip your classes today and stay in with me instead.”

“But Professor Lam is handing back our papers today. I need to see if I —” Jihoon tightens his grip on Mingyu’s wrist. Mingyu hitches his breath. “—got an A or not.”

“Have one of your classmates get your paper,” Jihoon says, undeterred. He rubs his thumb over Mingyu’s pulse point; Mingyu’s eyes flutter shut.

“That paper’s going to determine my grade point average this semester,” Mingyu argues weakly, trying to fight against his inevitable submission, still stubborn as ever. But Jihoon knows it’s just a front. Mingyu has always been so easy for Jihoon.  

Jihoon settles his weight more firmly on Mingyu, keeps his wrists trapped with one hand, and skims the other down to palm Mingyu’s cheek.

“Which would you rather prefer? To find out your grade on a paper you know you already got an A on,” Jihoon murmurs. “Or for me to open you up nice and slow on my dick?”

“You know which one I’d prefer,” Mingyu gripes, but any bite in his voice is canceled out by how breathlessly he says it.

Jihoon grips his jaw.

“So tell me.”

Mingyu lets out a soft whimper, and Jihoon smiles to himself. With that sound, he knows that he’s won, that Mingyu really is that desperate for him. Jihoon shouldn’t feel this pleased that he’s not the only one who needed this trip badly.

As pleased as he is, he doesn’t feel like letting Mingyu give in so easily. “Which one is it going to be?” Jihoon repeats. “Do you want me to fuck you? Nice and slow until you’re shaking? Until you’re begging me to let you come like you were last night? Use your words.”

Mingyu flushes hot under Jihoon and he looks like he’s about to purse his lips in defiance — but Jihoon is right, it doesn’t take Mingyu two seconds to lower his gaze before whining, “Jihoon, _please_ , fuck me.”

And God, Jihoon really had missed this, how sweetly Mingyu always gave it up for him. It was intoxicating how he could wrap Mingyu around his finger, make Mingyu bend just how he wanted.

Normally, Jihoon would tease him out, rub his fingers over Mingyu’s nipples or stroke feather light touches over his dick until he was breaths came out in unsteady moans under Jihoon, but right now, he just wants to make Mingyu come apart fast.

Slow could come after he made Mingyu come the first time.

Jihoon leans forward to kiss Mingyu, a quick suck to Mingyu’s lower lip before letting go of his wrists and shimmying down until he’s eye level with Mingyu’s dick, already hard in his briefs. There’s a sizable wet spot spreading across them, and Jihoon takes the time to admire it.

Mingyu is already impatient, tilting his hips up insistently, but he doesn’t move his arms from where Jihoon had pressed them up towards the headboard.

“Look at you,” Jihoon says approvingly, fingers ghosting over the hard outline of Mingyu’s cock. “Usually you’re so mouthy. But all I have to do is promise you my dick and you become so good for me.”

“Hyung,” Mingyu whines, high and needy. “Don’t _tease_.”

Jihoon doesn’t need the encouragement to push down the front of Mingyu’s briefs, tucking the elastic waistband just behind Mingyu’s balls to make him squirm. “I bet you’re still loose from last night,” Jihoon muses out loud as he takes a firm grip of Mingyu’s dick. “I bet it would be so easy to just slide right back in. You’d moan for it, open up for me so nicely, wouldn’t you?”

Mingyu only whimpers until Jihoon tightens his hold and makes him look Jihoon in the eye.

Mingyu’s already well on his way to becoming a wreck, bangs already sweaty with heat and desperation, his eyes wild when he gasps out _yes, yes please, Jihoon_.

And Jihoon, well Jihoon loves it so much that he doesn’t want to give Mingyu his dick, not yet. He strokes his hand all the way down Mingyu’s length, before dragging up and rubbing his palm over the head of Mingyu’s dick to spread the wetness already gathering there. He keeps the pressure firm and steady, wrist flicking expertly as his palm twists over the slit of Mingyu’s dick until he’s shaking with it, all moans and stuttered hips, squirming like he doesn’t know if he wants to buck into the pressure or away from it.

Jihoon’s not ashamed to admit that he’s jerked off to something just like this in his imagination.

“Come on,” he coaxes. He thumbs under the rim of the head, gentle but insistent. “You don’t have to hold it in. Come for me now and I’ll fuck you good, _so_ good, just how you want it.”

Mingyu lifts his head up and looks at Jihoon, eyes hooded and cloudy; Jihoon flicks his fingernails across the slit of Mingyu’s dick. It’s all Mingyu needs to shout and spill across Jihoon’s hand and his own stomach, threads of white making pretty patterns against his tan skin.

“Good boy,” Jihoon murmurs. He strokes Mingyu through his orgasm until he’s groaning and twitching away from Jihoon’s hand.

Mingyu’s chest is still heaving when he brings his legs up to wrap around Jihoon’s waist, eyes looking at Jihoon expectantly.

Jihoon isn't particularly surprised — Mingyu never could be satisfied with only coming once. “I thought you’d be too tired?” Jihoon teases.

“You promised me you’d fuck me,” Mingyu complains, and it’s astounding how he can go from obedient to bratty in the blink of an eye. “Are you going back on your word?”

Jihoon tsks at him disapprovingly. “You really only listen to me when I’m fucking you, huh?” But even as he’s saying it, he’s making quick work of Mingyu’s briefs and the rest of his own clothes, pointedly ignoring Mingyu’s pleased wiggle.

He manages to wipe off the self-satisfied smirk on Mingyu’s face though, when he hooks his arms under Mingyu’s knees without warning, forcing Mingyu’s legs up and over Jihoon’s shoulders. The way Mingyu looks with his eyes widened in surprise and body bent nearly in half into the mattress definitely ranks in the top five of Jihoon’s favorite looks. His hair is matted to his forehead, and his body has a sheen of sweat all over. His cum is still sticky against his stomach.

“Lube,” Jihoon says, trying to keep his voice calm and collected, when actually he sometimes still can’t believe that he’s the one that gets to have all of this.

“Just fuck me without,” Mingyu pleads, wiggling his hips against Jihoon for emphasis. “You already said I’m ready enough for it. I want to feel you in me _now_.”

Jihoon shudders at how desperate Mingyu sounds, can already imagine how hot it would feel to just push into him, hole still pink and used from last night. God, Mingyu wouldn’t even try to stop Jihoon. Jihoon sucks in a breath and counts to ten.

“Lube,” Jihoon repeats, more forcefully this time and with a sharp smack to Mingyu’s flank.

Mingyu makes a noise high in his throat, but he lowers his arms — the first time he’s done so the whole morning — and fumbles around under his pillow. It takes him a while; Jihoon rubbing the tip of his cock slowly against Mingyu’s ass is probably not helping.

When Mingyu finds the lube and pushes it against Jihoon’s chest impatiently, Jihoon takes no time at all to slick up his fingers, then his dick. One of these days, he’s going to really take his time stretching Mingyu open, use his fingers and mouth to just torment Mingyu for _hours_ , maybe even make him come without laying a single finger on his cock. Right now though, he intends to give Mingyu what he’s been begging for.

He’s all business when he probes with expert fingers to make sure Mingyu is as ready as he sounds; when he’s satisfied with his check, he grabs the base of his own dick to _finally_ push in, slowly, slowly, all the way to the hilt.

Jihoon has to bite back at groan at how well Mingyu takes him in — his eyes are squeezed shut and his breaths are coming in wet, hiccuping gasps, but he’s hot and soft and just as open as Jihoon had guessed he would be.  He takes a second to relish the feeling, but then Mingyu is begging, “Jihoon, _please_ ,” and that’s all Jihoon needs to draw his hips out and _slam_ back in.

The thing is, Mingyu is always begging him to go faster, faster, faster until there are tears welling up in his eyes, but Jihoon never gives it to him, taking his time instead to tear Mingyu apart.

This time though, Jihoon doesn’t give Mingyu a chance to breathe, much less beg, not with the brutal pace he sets. He makes sure every push in forces a rattling gasp from Mingyu’s throat, and every pull out makes him pant and whine. It’s not long before Mingyu is a shivering wreck, his little _ah, ah_ s steadily rising in crescendo. His hand is wrapped tightly around the base of his own cock, like he’s trying to stave off his own orgasm. Jihoon huffs impatiently and bats his hand away to replace it with his own.

“If I wanted you to stop yourself from coming, I’d say so,” Jihoon growls. He spits in his hand and starts jerking Mingyu off, fast and merciless. “I’m going to get you off, just like this,” Jihoon enunciates, slowly and clearly in counterpoint to the rough snap of his hips. “And after you come, I’m going to keep pounding your fucked out little hole until you’re absolutely sobbing from it. Then, I’m going to come in you, make you even more of a mess then you already are. Is that what you want?” Jihoon punctuates it with a slow grind of his hips, pressing right against the spot that pulls out the prettiest choked noises from Mingyu.

Mingyu blinks up at him with glassy eyes, hiccups once, and shudders out an orgasm, tiny spurts of cum drooling over Jihoon’s hand.  

“Fuck,” Jihoon grits out against the clench of Mingyu's hole around him, slowing his hips to give Mingyu a chance to catch his breath. He feels like there are flames burning up his lungs, screaming at him to take and take and _take_ , to chase his own release; he feels like he could just explode.

“Jihoon,” Mingyu rasps, eyes hooded over and dazed. “Come on, fill me up with your cum, you said you would, you _promised_ ,” and that’s _it_ for Jihoon. He thrusts once, twice more, and then he’s coming, starbursts shooting behind his eyelids and ringing deafening his ears. He buries himself in Mingyu, as deep as he can, and wonders how anyone could spend their time doing anything else.

He’s still coming to when he finally tunes into Mingyu whining, “Jihoon, let go, my legs are so _tired_ —” And so Jihoon clumsily pulls out and collapses unceremoniously on top him, too sated to care about the sticky mess between them.

There’s only a little bit of squawking and struggling before Mingyu gives up, accepting his new life as Jihoon’s personal body pillow.

“I’m never going to make it to class on time now,” Mingyu says forlornly.

“The fact that you ever thought you could is concerning to me,” Jihoon says lazily, cheek sticking against Mingyu’s chest. “I didn’t fly across an entire ocean for you to leave me alone in your shitty apartment, you know.”

“You flew _three_ hours,” Mingyu says disbelievingly.

“Three hours I could have spent doing something else,” Jihoon says, fighting to keep a grin off his face at Mingyu’s offended huff.

“Why can’t you just admit that you missed me,” Mingyu complains, and Jihoon can’t help it, he  _has_  to burst out laughing in pure delight and mirth at just how _put out_ he sounds.

“Why don’t I show you instead,” Jihoon says when he can finally control his laughter, his smile turning into something darker, showing teeth.

The air is sticky and humid and filled with promise. The hustle and bustle of Hong Kong can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> me: has three carefully outlined wips of jigyu fics with actual substance, plot
> 
> also me: bangs out pwp on the iphone notes app during a four hour flight 
> 
> comments and concrit welcome and appreciated.


End file.
